Memories
by EruDaughter
Summary: a moment between Shepard and Thane.  Drell memories are not the only kind that last forever. One Shot


AN: a moment between Shepard and Thane. Drell memories are not the only kind that last forever. Unbeta-ed, first fic for Mass Effect, and first fic in a very long time.

Memories

The sheets slipped across his body like one thousand brushes of a butterfly's wing, but that was not what had woken him. It was the horse, unsteady gasping of the woman next to him and the unmistakable sound of a pistol being prepped for action. In the space of on strangled breath his eyes were open and he was aware of everything in the room. The soft blue glow of the empty fish tanks; He recalls with perfect clarity the last time they had tried to keep fish. The soft music playing from the speakers; a soothing classical piece by one of the earth composers: Brahms. This lullaby has been playing the last three times he has woken in the night. The expanse of starry space above his head; the ship is in flight, these stars are new to him. The gentle blinking of the terminal on the desk; the involuntary smile slips onto his face with the memories of the desk. The barrel of the afore mentioned pistol; a M-6 Carnifax, useful for stripping armor and shield from a variety of enemies. Deadly at this range. Inches from his nose being held by the shaking hand of Siha.

"Siha," he began.

"No more hiding!" She shouted. "No more crying in the dark." Her sea green eyes were unfocused; she was not really looking at him. Her erratic pulse jumping in the vanes of her neck communicated her fear and tension. This was not the calm, collected Shepard next to whom he had fallen asleep. Her short red hair was a messy tangle; her body trembled like the ferns of Kahje in the rain. The blue glow back lit her. She was blue, red, pale and shadowed before him. One knee bent and resting on the bed, the other leg firmly planted on the bare floor. Pajamas, the same soft grey cotton set that he had gotten for her on Illium just two days before were wet with sweat. One did not need to be a deadly assassin to smell the fear rolling off her.

He could think of six different ways to disarm her, only three would hurt her enough to warrant a trip to Doctor Chakwas, one of his remaining three options would kill her, one would render her unconscious and one would put her in a painful hold. None of those options were to his liking. He blinked slowly, taking a moment to calm his own heart rate and draw a fresh breath of air. He inched himself into a sitting position on the bed, now he had three more nonlethal was to get the gun. She did not seem to respond to his gentle movements. The hand holding the gun drifted down to point at the bed.

"I-"he tried to speak again. At the sound of his voice she started violently. The gun popped up to his face again. The click of parts falling into place, the soft thunk of the safety disengaging, one shaking finger sliding down the guard to rest flinchingly on the trigger. He looks up at her, adrenaline humming, heart beats passing.

"You don't get to talk right now." The words came from her mouth, but the voice was broken. "There is no one to talk to. Everyone is dead." She moved, suddenly, gesturing with the Carnifax toward the bodies only she could see. "Can't you smell them burning?" A small laugh bubbles up from her mouth. "Only, I'm not dead." She points to herself with the gun. "You thought I was. I'm not a toy." Another laugh without mirth. The gun swings back to pause in the center of his forehead. "I am going to make sure at least you can't play with anyone else." This time it is not a laugh, it is a sob. Her body shakes with the sobs that have not yet made it to her mouth. "It's getting real lonely here." She spoke again, "maybe I should join them…" She looked up at the space stretching across the unknown. Her arm moves, seemingly of it's own volition, the pistol now snugly fits itself under her chin.

In the blink of her eyes Thane makes his move. The gun skidded over the smooth floor as his arms wrapped around her. Her body sprang to life in his arms, she tried to knock his legs out from under him, but he knew she would try that. Her arms flailed as she screamed at him. Something incoherent about batarians and her family. At last Thane understood what was going on. Human memories were designed to fade, the memories that did not fade with time were the dangerous ones. Siha was not fighting him; she was fighting the batarians on Mindoir. Somehow she had slipped back to that awful day. He gasps softly as one of her wild punches catches him solidly in the gut. He holds her closer to his body. Not fighting her, but not letting her go either.

Just as suddenly as this nightmare started, the fight went out of her. Her body hung limp against him. She was crying in his arms, her tears made tracks down her face. "Shhh…" the hushing sound rumbled through his whole body, "It's alright Siha. They are gone. You are safe." Each word of reassurance was followed by a gentle kiss, on her forehead, her nose, her neck, her ears.

"Thane, what happened?" The sea green eyes looked to him for answers, her body shook with the force of her sobs. "You slipped into memory, Siha, one you did not enjoy." He smiled a ghost of a smile. He held her until the shaking stopped.

"Dying or Mindoir?" She asked at last.

"Mindoir. You thought I was a batarian." He laughed softly. "Not the most flattering comparison beloved."

Shepard drew a shaky breath, and looked down at herself, she could see the marks starting to rise. Some of them were the soft normal red of Thane's finger prints, other's were the tell tale signs of struggle. Bruises and scrapes that spoke of holding and resistance. "This was a bad one." She remarked, mostly to the air. "I'm sorry."

Thane did not respond. To say it was nothing would only make her feel worse, to say that all was forgiven would not help and to say that all was forgotten would be a lie. His gift of silence went unbroken until her eyes found the all too familiar Carnifax. It was lying at the foot of the stars, cool in the blue glow of the fish tanks.

"Thane?" her voice had started low, but rose to new heights as she breathed his name.

"Yes, Siha?"

"I had a pistol to your head." It was a statement. Not a question.

"I was never in any real danger." Shepard looks up at him sharply. "I had the batarian at gun point, I shot him in the face." She is almost shouting. Her face is flushed with emotion, her chest rises and falls in time with her angered breathing. "I. Almost. Shot. You. In. The. Face. How can you say you were never in real danger?" The words are short and clipped. Rapid fire like her favorite gun.

"But you did not." He replies simply. "Somewhere, you knew it was me, Siha."

Silence fills the cabin, the music has stopped, the unspoken words float in the air. What happens next time? When is the next time? They both know that it will happen again. Human memories were always meant to fade. It is the ones that do not… they are not the happy memories.


End file.
